


Don't Touch

by gestaltrose



Series: Feeling [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can't keep his hands in his pockets and surprise he ends up hip deep in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Sister-in-law for her birthday.

“Sam,” Dean said warningly.

“Dean,” Sam replied in the same tone.

“Don’t touch that . . . you don’t know what . . . oh, for Christ’s sake, you idiot.” Dean looked at his brother in exasperation.

Sam stood, transfixed, holding a carving of an otter. His lack of response on the outside was in complete contrast with what was going on inside his head. He was feeling.

Everything, all at once. It was like he had tapped into the emotions of every other person who had ever held this thing. Painful and exhilarating at the same time. Love and hate, happiness and despair, needing and disdain, he was feeling it. Sam could feel his brain shutting down in self-defense. Just before he passed out, he felt Dean. Only, his emotions were much stronger. Feelings of worry, concern and anger followed him into the darkness.

Waking up slowly, Sam lay and evaluated himself. They had been in New England searching down a rumor of a relic that could capture demons. It had been two months since they had left Wyoming and they really hadn’t stopped at all. Stopping would mean having time to think. Thinking was painful. Dad had saved Dean and his soul was at rest, at least that’s what they thought, but now Dean’s soul was the one in danger. All because of him.

He had died and Dean had made a deal with a demon that he would have a year and then his soul was forfeit. Sam liked being alive, but it had been wrong of Dean to do that. Taking a deep breath, he sighed and cracked open his eyes. He was in the Impala, lying across the back seat. Dean was talking to him, and oddly, emotions were rolling off of him. Sam could tell that Dean was worried, sad, angry, and there was some other emotion that he couldn’t classify.

Then it changed, Dean noticed he was awake. Relief overwhelmed all of the other emotions he was getting from Dean. Sam smiled as the feeling rolled over him. Then he frowned. Why was he feeling what Dean was feeling? Maybe he was imagining things. Great, just what he needed. Moving, he tried to sit up.

“Whoa, there Sammy, take it easy. You want to tell me what the hell just happened?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. I felt. I feel.” Sam didn’t have a clue how to say what was going on. “Maybe I just imagined it.”

“What did you imagine?” Dean asked keeping an eye on the road and glancing at Sam in the rearview mirror.

Sam felt a spike of worry and it again seemed to come from Dean.

“That statue…” Sam started.

“You mean the one I had to pay for because you wouldn’t let it go? That one? The one in your hand?”

Looking down, Sam saw that Dean was telling him the truth. Throwing the statue to the floor of the car he brought his hand up to his head, trying to remember something. He was worried but he could feel Dean’s worry, too. God, he was going crazy. First the visions and now this.

“Sammy?”

Lifting his head, he looked at his brother. “Yeah, Dean?”

Dean seemed to change his mind about something. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No, let’s get back to the motel. I just need to sleep.”

Dean nodded and kept driving.

Sam thought he felt Dean worrying about him again. He shook his head. Telling himself that it wasn’t real didn’t seem to be working. Sighing, he let his forehead fall against the window. Wasn’t this just fucking peachy. Noticing the statue seemed to be looking at him from the floor, he kicked it.

“Tell me why we went into that place again?” Sam tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Your idea, hot shot. Remember?” Dean smirked at him.

Sam could feel Dean’s worry and confusion, at least that’s the way it seemed, no matter what was on his face.

“Forget it.”

Seeming a little angry at Sam, Dean turned sharply into the parking lot of their latest motel. Yanking open the back door, he helped Sam out, taking a hold of his coat, his gentleness at odds with his expression. After he got Sam into the motel room and onto the bed he went back out and came back with the damned otter. Making sure that none of his skin touched the statue, he sat it on the table.

“I think it might be possessed,” Sam admitted.

“Why did you touch it?” Dean looked and sounded defeated.

“I don’t know. I guess I was drawn to it.”

“And that didn’t warn you of anything?” Dean asked, shaking his head he sat down on the bed by Sam. “What were you talking about, before, about feeling?”

Sam was feeling concern and something else coming from Dean, that is, if it all wasn’t in his head.

Taking a deep breath, he began to talk. “When I touched it, it was as if every emotion of every person who had touched it surged into me. I felt it all.”

“Ahh,” Dean made a noise so Sam looked at him.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face gave you away.” Sam looked down, hurt. He knew it was hard to believe but, shit, they dealt with unbelievable crap every day.

“Sammy,” Dean paused, “Sam, you scared me. Tell me what happened and we’ll figure out if we need to do something about it.”

Appreciating the ‘we’, Sam started talking again.

“Hate, love, jealousy, envy, appreciation, abandonment, joy -- damn it, Dean, I felt it all. Everything, if you’ve a name for a feeling, I felt it.”

Dean got up and looked closely at the statue. “It looks old.”

“Trust me, it’s ancient.”

“Maybe there’s something in dad’s book.” Dean seemed to find it easier and easier to speak of John Winchester.

“Could you get me the laptop?” Sam asked.

“Are you sure? You were out of it for quite a while. You could just rest.”

“Stop babying me, Dean, and get me the damn laptop. Fuck it.” He sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. “I’ll get it myself.” He stood and swayed.

Dean, in the meantime, had already retrieved the laptop and the plug in for it.

Spots flickered in front of Sam’s eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Wrong thing to do. Dizziness overwhelmed him. Sitting back down on the bed, he was surprised to have his laptop shoved into his hands.

Sam sat, blinking at the machine in his hands. Like he didn’t know what it was, and for a moment, he didn’t. Looking up, he blinked at Dean. Worry rolled over him. From Dean, he thought. His eyes flicked over the man standing in front of him. Hazel eyes sought out green ones.

Concern and that other feeling were rolling over him as he looked into Dean’s green eyes. Starting to get frustrated by not being able to identify the feeling, even though he wasn’t sure it was real, he reached out to touch Dean. Panic. Then Dean was stepping back.

“Are you sure you’re up to it? ‘Cause it don’t look that way to me.” Dean’s voice was calm and Sam was sure that he was imagining things now. Why the fuck would Dean panic just because Sam reached out to him?

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Swinging his legs back on the bed, he propped himself up on the pillows and flipped open his computer.

Meanwhile, Dean had walked over to the table and put Dad’s journal next to the statue.

Sam looked up from the screen in front of him to study the statue. “European Otter, I think.” He looked back down at his computer and typed some more information into the search engine.

“What do you know about Norse mythology, Sam?” Dean suddenly asked him.

“A bit, what I read in college, mostly.”

Dean looked down at his book, his finger working down the page. “Otr, or Ott. Have you heard of it?”

“It? Dean, Ott was a dwarf son of Hreidmar. He was a shape changer, his favorite being an otter.” His voice trailed off. “What does the book say?”

“This part is mostly about a ring, Andvarinaut. It says it’s a cursed artifact. Dad actually saw it.” Dean flipped the book so Sam could see a picture of a tarnished ring with runes running around the outside of it. “One ring to rule them all,” he laughed.

Sam just shook his head at Dean. He was pretty sure that Dean didn’t know that Tolkien got his idea of the one ring from the myth of Andvarinaut. “What about Ott?”

“Dad said that when he talked with the guy who had the ring -- Dad doesn’t say who,” Dean offered for clarity. “That guy said that he had heard of an item of Ott’s that was said to release hidden talents.”

They both looked at the statue.

“Talent, not talents, Dean.”

“What?”

“Hidden talent. That must be it.” Sam started typing. “Aha!”

“What is it?”

“Empathy.”

“Empathy?” Dean snorted. “Your hidden talent is empathy?”

“I’m willing to stake my soul on it.”

“Don’t,” Dean said, suddenly serious, “even joke about that.”

Sam nodded in acknowledgment at Dean. He had no right to even talk about that.

“Talk then; tell me what’s going on.” Dean looked at him.

“When I picked it up. I felt. Well. Everything.”

“Everything?” It was funny how Dean could convey so much disbelief with one word.

“Damn it, Dean. I’m trying to tell you. If you don’t want to listen, just fuck off.” When Dean didn’t comment, Sam continued. “It was as if I was feeling every feeling of every person who had ever held it.”

“So why did you pass out? It was just some feelings. And why do you think it unlocked empathy?” Dean asked.

Sam looked down at his screen. He had been so positive, but maybe he was wrong, maybe everything was just in his head. Like Dean being nervous, Dean didn’t look nervous or sound nervous.

“It says here that otters were equated with empathy in the old world. That thing is,” Sam typed some more and turned his computer around to show Dean, “this.”

Dean got up and went to look at the computer. “This is an illustration for _The Ring of the Nibelung_.”

Sam nodded and pointed to an otter in the picture. The pose, the details, it was identical. Pointing to a date on the picture, Sam made sure that Dean saw it. 1870. Then Sam began explaining. “There is no Ott or otter in the Ring cycle. Ott is Norse, but Wagner was inspired by the myth of Andvarinaut.”

Sam sighed because he knew what Dean was going to reply to what he said next. “I think that, that thing,” he pointed to the statue, “it unlocked my empathy.”

“What, like you weren’t empathetic before?” Dean asked, surprising Sam, who had been expecting sarcasm or some of Dean’s priceless wit. “You could empathize with a stone before you touched that thing.”

Ahh, there it was. Priceless.

Sam would have snapped at Dean except he was still getting emotions that seemed to be coming from Dean and Dean was scared.

“Fine. It’s just a cursed object that wouldn’t let me let go of it.” Sam said it quietly.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about. We destroy it, everything goes back.”

“We still need to find the bowl we were looking for. Did you get the name of the place we found that . . . thing . . . at?”

“Don’t you want to destroy this first?”

“It can wait. It wasn’t as if I was possessed or something. It just played tricks with my mind. The name?” he prompted Dean.

Dean dug out the receipt that he had shoved in his coat pocket when he had hurriedly purchased the statue so that he could get Sam out of there. “Gothic Dreams. Remember, you said that the Goth’s had some kind of rune bowl that would stop evil in a doorway. I told you it was probably just some punk place with a lot of black.”

“Rune bowl, right. We should go back and see.”

“No fucking way.” Dean sounded mad but what Sam thought he felt from him was fear.

“Why?”

Dean looked pointedly at the statue of the otter.

“Well, I just won’t touch anything.”

Dean snorted.

“What?”

“You haven’t ever kept your hands in you pockets. I remember one time with dad, he told you to not touch and you ended up with blue hair for a week.” Now Dean was laughing.

Sam couldn’t help but to smile at his brother.

“Dad never did figure out what had happened.” Dean smiled back at Sam and then he stopped.

“I’ll go and check it out.”

“But you don’t even know what a runic bowl looks like.”

“Yeah, well, you can draw me a picture. Besides, I want to have a word with the owner.”

“Dean, let it go.”

“That’s the problem, you couldn’t. Let it go, I mean.”

“Whatever,” Sam said, closing the laptop and setting it beside the bed. “I’m tired.” He lay down and closed his eyes.

He could hear Dean moving around in the room. Damn, why did this have to happen? Sam could admit to himself now that he was getting emotions from Dean.

Thinking back to when he touched the statue, he tried to remember if he could feel anyone else. The store had had a couple of customers and the proprietor, Sam tried to remember what he looked like. Failing, he realized that Dean was the only one he had felt, and right before he passed out it had become much stronger and clearer than anything he was getting from the stupid statue.

Dean. Everything in his life seemed to bring him back to Dean. It always had. No matter how far he had run, trying to escape hunting and Dad, Dean would pop in. Keep in touch. Sam had suspected that Dean had been jealous of Jessica because she had pulled him firmly into a normal life. Something that Dean had never wanted but he wanted it for him. Gods, thinking about this was giving him a headache.

Sam decided later that he must have groaned or something because Dean was beside his bed asking him if he was okay. Then suddenly, Dean touched him. Touched his face. All of Dean’s emotions came crashing down on Sam.

 _Worry, love,_ and -- bite him on the ass and call him Aunt Sally -- _lust._

That was the odd emotion that he couldn’t figure out earlier. Sam could feel his body responding to the emotions and he jerked back, eyes opening.

“You okay?” Dean asked again, lowering his hand when Sam flinched away from him.

Now hurt and worry were coming from Dean but it was much less intense than when he was touching him. Sam almost reached out to touch him. Realizing that he hadn’t answered Dean’s question, he nodded.

“You sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” Dean asked, clearly upset with Sam’s behavior.

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just creeped out trying to sleep with that thing in the room.” Sam looked over at the statue.

“I’ll go put it in the trunk.” Getting up, Dean swept the statue up with the cloth covering it.

“For what it matters, I think you’re right.”

Dean stopped at the door and turned back to Sam. “About what?” he asked.

“It’s all in my head. Maybe it just triggered something like my visions. Sorry that I worried you.” Sam spoke quietly but with conviction. Knowing that if Dean found out that he knew what Dean was feeling, well, it would just be one more thing that he would feel guilty about.

“We’ll go and check out that place again tomorrow. I’m just gonna put this in the car and go and get us something to eat. Any preferences?”

“Something without onions,” Sam spoke clearly.

“For you or me?” Dean asked, teasing.

“For both of us, I have to sleep with you and you stink after eating onions.”

Dean just chuckled and shut the door, leaving Sam alone. Of all the luck, this had to be the time when the motel that they stayed at had no twin beds available. All they had was this queen size one. Sam hadn’t thought it would be a problem, but maybe it would.

Pounding his fist into the pillow a couple of times, he told himself that he had not just felt Dean lusting after him. After all, that would be too easy. Sam had to admit to himself, finally, that he thought about Dean the same way. Thinking back, he probably had most of his life.

Dean loved Sam. Sam had never doubted it. Watching over him ever since they were young, Dean had always tried to protect him. However, since they had been hunting together, after Jessica had died, they had grown closer. At times Sam wanted to kill Dean just because he was getting on his nerves, then he would flash his smile and Sam would try not to smile back. Damn dimples gave him away every time and he would end up giving in and grinning at him. Finding out that Dean felt more, it was like a gift and a curse all at once.

Rolling over, onto his side, he tried to still his mind. Just as he was going to give it up for a lost cause, he slipped off to sleep.

Only to awaken as Dean slammed back into the room, clutching takeout bags in his hands. “Look, no onions.”

Sam smiled and sat up. Feeling better, he tried to stand and found that, while he was a bit wobbly, he was better. Walking over to the table, slowly, Sam sat down.

“Oooo, is Sammy better then?” Dean asked in a baby voice.

“Good enough to kick your ass if you ask me like that again.”

Dean sat the food on the table, the bags brushing over Sam’s head.

“You’re so immature.”

“And you love it,” Dean responded and grabbed a burger.

“You wish,” Sam murmured into his soda cup.

“What?”

“Give me my food, I’m hungry.”

“Ah well, I’ll forgive your rudeness then,” Dean said magnanimously.

“How kind of you,” Sam laughed his response as he took the burger that Dean was holding out to him.

“I figure that we’ll hit the store again in the morning. I drove past there but it was closed,” Dean talked with his mouth full.

“Ug, how many times do I have to ask you not to do that?”

“I donno. How many?” Dean smirked with his mouth full.

Sam purposely ignored Dean and ate his burger.

“So? Wanna watch T.V.?”

“I guess. I should make a few notes about the statue.”

“Come on, leave it. It’s not like it did any damage or anything. Did it?” Dean peered into Sam’s hazel eyes.

“Nah, nothing.” Sam kept his eyes on Dean’s even though he wanted to drop them. He hated lying to his brother. Especially when he could feel Dean’s curiosity and worry. Worried about him. Damn. “I’m fine, Dean. Now quit babying me.”

Dean settled into his side of the bed and flipped on the television. “Knight Rider. Sweet.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s choice of shows to watch. Leaning back and making sure he wasn’t touching his brother, he drifted off to sleep to the sound of David Hasselhoff talking with Kit.

Waking up, Sam realized that it was the middle of the night and he was wrapped around his brother. Dean’s face was inches from his. Sam unconsciously ran his hand up and down Dean’s back. Managing to pull the t-shirt up, he froze when his hand touched Dean’s flesh.

 _Longing._

Sam’s eyes snapped open to look at Dean’s face and saw that his eyes were open. Staring at his brother with his hand resting on the small of his back. Their faces were so close that Sam could feel Dean’s breath. Eyes flicking to Dean’s mouth a moment before looking back into his green eyes.

 _Desire._

Licking his lips, he watched Dean’s eyes follow his tongue. Sam moved minutely closer.

 _Lust. Guilt._

Just having a moment to recognize the emotions before Dean’s lips were touching his. Yes. Sam responded to the kiss, his lips moving over Dean’s. When Dean’s tongue came out and touched his bottom lip, he was lost. Giving himself over to his desires, Sam opened his mouth, his tongue touching Dean’s.

Pulling Dean closer, Sam ran his hand up Dean’s back. Lust and longing driving him to get closer, Dean’s and his. “Unng,” one of them moaned. Eyes popped open.

 _Self loathing. Regret._

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean moved away from him. Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was full of longing.

Dean just shook his head. “Sorry,” he murmured again as he plopped down on the couch.

Sam got up and went into the bathroom. Shutting the door he lost no time in reaching for some Vaseline. Slicked up, he ran his hand up and down on his erection. Thinking about Dean and kissing and longing. It was moments and then he was coming and coming. Being pretty sure that he had called out his brother’s name as he came, Sam wondered if Dean heard him. Shaking his head, Sam decided to take a quick shower.

Drying off, Sam opened the door and glanced at the couch where Dean lay watching a late movie. “It’s all yours.”

He got a grunt in reply. Fucking peachy. Moving back to bed, he picked up Dad’s journal and was reading about Andvarinaut and Ott and curses until he dropped off to sleep.

Sam was having a vision, a nightmare he had hoped at first.

 _He saw flashes of a bowl, blood, a skeletal hand, and Dean. Dean in pain and cursing him. He knew he caused his brother’s pain but wasn’t sure how. Then Dean was surrounded by fire and he was screaming at Sam. “Help me. Save me.”_

Sam jerked awake, his heart rate and breathing rapid. Looking for Dean, he saw him sitting at the kitchenette and watching him. He calmed himself down. Dean was here. Breathe. Slow deep breath in through the nose, long slow exhale through the mouth. Sometimes he was glad he took that yoga class at college.

Feeling concern and worry along with a large heaping pile of guilt coming from Dean, Sam looked up at him.

“Vision?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

Dean was obviously waiting for Sam to say more. Sam didn’t know what to say. ‘Nothing specific, I think I just saw you die.’ Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon. “I saw the bowl; I think it had blood in it.”

“So, we’ll find it then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sam kept his voice as emotionless as he could. “Did you sleep?”

Dean shook his head and stood up. “That Goth place opens in a half an hour. You coming?”

All thoughts about the vision slipped from his mind. “You want me to?” Ignoring the innuendo of the words, he could feel Dean’s pain and loathing.

“You’re the one who knows what we’re looking for, so yeah, I want you to.”

Sam sighed. He had hoped that they could talk about what had happened, but he could feel Dean’s self-directed anger and Dean was acting like nothing had happened. If Dean wanted to act like that, Sam would let him.

Getting out of bed, Sam grabbed his clothes and changed. Just like he had every morning since they had started Hunting together, when they were well enough, that was.

This time it was different. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him as he pushed his pajama bottom’s down. Self-conscious in a way he had never been before, Sam was aware of every movement he made. Slipping into his jeans, he felt the emotions spike from Dean.

 _Desire._ Followed closely by _shame and regret._

The feelings were so strong, Sam glanced up at Dean, almost expecting him to be in tears, but there was no expression on his face. Sam turned and quickly finished getting dressed. Damn, he was going to have to say something.

Looking his brother in the eyes, he tried. “About last night . . .”

“Nothing happened,” Dean said firmly.

“But . . .”

“Nothing happened! Got it?” Dean yelled at him and then left the room.

“Nothing, right.” Sam spoke to the empty room and then went to get into the Impala so that they could leave.

The tense silence on the ride over did nothing to calm Sam’s nerves. His gut was churning by the time they got to the store. “Dean,” he had to try one more time. The look he got made him snap his mouth shut. He opened the door and slipped out.

Walking into the store again, Sam felt welcomed. It was odd. Looking around, he spied the proprietor sitting on a stool behind the counter. He walked over. “Sir,” he said.

“Yes? Oh, it’s you.” The older man got down from his stool and moved quietly to a curtained doorway behind him. “I expect you have some questions. Come in here and we can talk.”

“Damn right!” Dean almost yelled and Sam placed his hand on Dean’s arm.

 _Anger and protectiveness._

Damn, if he didn’t watch it he would get angry, too. One of them needed to keep a calm head. “Dean, we need information. Cool it.”

Dean shook off his hand. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Sam said and followed the older man behind the curtain.

It was dark. The kind of darkness that you seemed to imagine primordial things coming out of. Then, just as Sam was reaching for his flashlight, a light flared. The man lit a lantern and Sam looked around.

It seemed an ordinary back room. Shelves, boxes, and dust. The only thing different was right in front of him. A table and three chairs sat on a carpet with a lantern in the middle of the table.

“Sit, please. I have a feeling this will take a while.”

Did Sam imagine that the man stressed the word ‘feeling’? Damn, he wanted to find out what was going on.

Moving past Sam, Dean took a seat.

Sam looked at him incredulously. He was just going to trust this guy? Dean?

“What?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? That’s rich. I wanna know what is going on and if this guy can tell me, great,” Dean snapped at him.

“Fine.” Sam unconsciously echoed Dean as he grabbed the other chair and looked at the man. “Talk.”

“I have been waiting for the statue to speak to someone. You rushed out of here so fast that I didn’t have a chance to talk with you.”

“Speak to someone?”

“Talk with me?”

Sam and Dean spoke at the same time.

“Yes.” The man answered both questions with one word. “My name is Alberich.”

Sam’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be.

“I see you recognize the name,” Alberich spoke to Sam, who nodded.

“From the ring cycle, Alberich was the Dwarf who forged Andvarinaut,” Dean spoke up and Sam turned incredulous eyes to him.

“What? I can read.”

Sam just rolled his eyes and looked back at Alberich; he just knew this would be a good one.

“I made Andvarinaut, and what a mistake that was, but I’m not a Dwarf.”

Now Alberich was the one looked at incredulously by two pairs of eyes.

“That’s not important." He waved his hands dismissively. "What is important is the fact that the statue spoke to you. Everyone whom it has spoken to has had a great Talent.” Sam and Dean could hear the capital letter on the word.

“However, they have all been in great danger, too.” Alberich stopped and looked the boys over. “But, you already know this. Well, well, this changes things a bit.”

“Could you just tell us what the fuck is going on?” Dean yelled and stood up.

“You asked for it.” Alberich didn’t sound angry, but Sam wasn’t sure. “This young man,” Alberich waited a moment.

“Sam,” Sam offered and he got a look from Dean.

“Sam, then. Sam here is an Empath, a pretty strong one if his reaction to Ott is any thing to go by. I am an Angel.”

“And I’m Mary mother of God. Shit, Sam, we don’t need this crap.”

“Dean Allen Winchester, sit down and shut up!” Alberich yelled.

“How the fuck . . .” Dean ignored the command to sit.

“I told you, I’m an Angel. You don’t think that just the Demons are in on this battle?”

“Well, we haven’t seen . . .”

“Now you have. We don’t have much time, and I’m breaking more than a few rules even telling you this, but it’s important. The bowl you’ve been looking for is in a cemetery not far from here.”

“But,” prompted Sam.

“But it is already holding in a spirit. Dean, Sam, you need to put the spirit to rest before you can take the bowl. Sam’s going to have to do this one, Dean, because the spirit feeds off of emotions.” He seemed to wait and see who would comment first.

“Why . . .?”

“No fucking way.”

They both spoke at the same time, their voices over-riding one another.

Sam looked at Dean, who crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Christos,” Dean blurted out. Sam and he both watched the ‘Angel’ to see if he reacted. He did, but not in the way they were expecting.

Expecting Alberich to flinch and thereby prove that he was a Demon, that didn’t happen. Instead, a white light surround the man, or being.

“Happy?” Alberich didn’t sound upset.

“Yeah, actually, it helps a lot.” Dean pulled his best smile out for the Angel.

Sam suddenly thought it best to come clean. “I’ve kind of been feeling whatever you’ve been feeling since I touched that thing,” Sam admitted, hoping he didn’t sound as sheepish as he felt.

 _Anger. Denial. Guilt._

“Damn, Dean. Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Feeling fucking guilty.”

“I can feel whatever the hell I want to!”

“Boys, can we get back to the bowl?” Alberich questioned calmly.

Both of them looked at the Angel and said, “No.” They looked at one another and Dean gave his little lip-quirk grin and Sam followed it by a snort and then they were both laughing.

After Dean caught his breath he said, “Fine, fine. Tell us about the bowl. But there is no damn way Sam is going alone.”

“That wasn’t what I was suggesting. The two of you together make a much stronger team than you do apart.”

“Just what I’ve been telling him,” Dean smirked at Sam. Smirked! Smug bastard.

“Sam, the bowl.” Alberich drew Sam’s attention back to him. “You’ll need lamb’s blood to get rid of the spirit, then you can move it. When you get close to it, it’ll start using your emotions against you. What you now have going for you is that a bunch of those emotions aren’t actually yours.”

Sam looked at Dean, who was watching him with shadowed eyes. Trying to sense his emotions was fairly useless as Sam’s were all in turmoil.

“You boys got something going for you that no Demon can match.” That swung their attention back to Alberich like iron to a magnet. “Love.”

 _Guilt._

Well, that was clear enough. Damn, what were they going to do?

Alberich was still talking. “. . . that means it’s all right.”

Looking at Dean, he saw that he was staring intently at the older man, being, whatever.

“Wait. You’re an Angel and you’re telling me that us,” there was something significant about the us, “is okay with the big guy? You have got to be out of your flippen mind.”

Shit, it was important and he had missed it. “What?” Sam asked, hoping for clarification.

“Love is love. That’s where everyone gets it wrong, even those who wrote the Bible. 'Faith, hope and love remain; and the greatest of these is love.' They got that part right.” Alberich seemed to sigh. “Sam, Dean, the biggest secret in the world is that. Sharing love, showing love is right, however you do it. You are both adults.” He rubbed his hand over his face and seemed to contemplate something. “It will make you stronger.”

“What will?” Sam asked still in the dark.

“If we fuck,” Dean said bluntly.

“No, no, no! Haven’t you heard a word I said? Love, you idiots, you have to make love.” He stood up and shoved a piece of paper into Sam’s hand. “Directions to the crypt with the bowl. Now go. I’ve said too much.”

“Thank . . .”

“GO!”

Dean and Sam were almost shoved out the door. Walking to the Impala, they opened the doors and got in, shutting them at the same time. The silence was thick and heavy in the car, like a wool blanket. Sam couldn’t even look at Dean.

The mutual silence lasted until they were back in their room at the motel.

“Dean,” Sam had a pleading tone to his voice.

“So, when exactly were you going to tell me?” The words were angry but the tone wasn’t. Dean sounded defeated.

“I tried. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry doesn’t quite cut it, Sam.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was real, or just something I was imagining.”

“What about last night. Did you imagine that?”

Sam managed not to sigh in relief. They were going to talk about it. “I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it was something I wanted so bad.” He wasn’t sure how to explain his confusion.

“You wanted?”

Sam walked over to Dean. Hazel eyes caught green ones. A connection flared between them. Sam could feel Dean’s desire and it fed his own. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across that perfect mouth. “I wanted,” Sam whispered against Dean’s lips.

 _Lust. Desire. Love._

Yes! Sam leaned in and captured Dean’s mouth in a frantic kiss, tongues touching, sliding against one another. This is what he wanted. Sam slid his hands up Dean’s arms, touching his skin. Fuck, the emotional feedback was making him high. Dean was pulling his t-shirt over his head, Sam tried to help and ended up tangled in it.

“God, can’t you hold still for one moment?” Dean asked him.

Sam stood still and Dean took the shirt off, his hands running down Sam’s chest. Sam hadn’t been this hard since he had figured out how to masturbate. He groaned as Dean’s hands slipped down to his jeans.

“Wow, Sammy. Is that for me?” Dean rubbed his hand across the bulge in Sam’s pants.

Sam grabbed Dean’s hand. “Not if you keep doing that.”

Dean grinned and moved closer to Sam. “You wouldn’t tell me no.”

Feeling the heat from Dean rushing through him, Sam gave up. “Never. Not about this.” Reaching down, Sam pulled Dean’s shirt up and undid his jeans.

Both men quickly toed their shoes off, and slipped out of their pants. Soon both of them were lying on the bed, naked except for their briefs. Sam, touching Dean, knew that this was what Dean wanted, but Dean wasn’t so sure about Sam.

“What about Jessica?”

Oh, yeah. Nothing like mentioning the dead fiancé to ruin the mood. “What about her, Dean?”

“Aren’t you in love with her?”

“I loved her, Dean. I love you.”

Dean seemed to consider this for a moment. “I didn’t know you swung both ways.”

“First, you never asked. Second, it’s none of your business. Third, I don’t think I do, I think I just swing your way.” The last part Sam barely got out before he was blushing.

“So you only swing my way?” Dean sounded smug. Damn.

“Yeah. What about you?” Sam asked, running a hand up Dean’s arm and then tracing a path down his chest.

Dean’s breath was caught in his throat. When Sam stopped moving his hand and laid it flat against Dean’s taut stomach, Dean took in a shaky breath.

 _Desire. Yearning._

“Hmm?”

“I asked about you.”

“I’ve been around that block, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dean admitted.

Sam gave Dean a flash of dimples. It was good to know that at least one of them had a clue what they were doing. The way Dean had him wound up, he knew he’d be lucky to outlast the first touch.

“So, you really know what I’m feeling?” Dean asked.

 _Curiosity._

Not anger or revulsion or any other negative emotion that Sam had been afraid of.

“Yeah, I seem to.”

“So what am I feeling now?”

“You mean other than horny?” Sam flicked his fingers against Dean’s stomach and got a spike of arousal.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out.

“Curious but mostly horny.” Leaning in a bit, he brushed his lips against Dean’s, hoping to tempt him into action.

Dean leaned in and kissed Sam. Then he rolled so he was on top of Sam.

Bringing his hands up, Sam clutched Dean’s hair as their lips met. Dean’s erection was rubbing against his through their underwear. “Off,” he gasped out and Dean started to move off of him.

 _Sadness. Regret._

Grabbing Dean’s ass, Sam stopped him. He slid his hand under the waistband of the briefs and pulled up a little, letting it slap back down. “These.”

Flashing that grin of his, Dean wiggled out of his briefs and got Sam out of his. Before Sam could appreciate the view, Dean was back on top of him. Fuck. Dean’s cock slid like silk against his. Damn.

“Dean,” Sam gasped, “I don’t think . . .”

Silencing Sam with a kiss, Dean pushed against Sam, rubbing their erections together. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around both cocks. That did it. Sam was coming, the warm semen spurting between them. Dean came moments later.

Dean collapsed on him and Sam just held him.

 _Contentment. Pride. Love._

No regret then. Sam was happy. Dean got off of him and off the bed.

“Come on, we got to clean up.”

Sam looked down at the mess that was drying on his chest and laughed. Following Dean into the bathroom, he appreciated the view of his ass.

Dean turned on the shower and stepped in. Sam opened the curtain and looked at his brother. Feeling his desire spiking again, Sam stepped in.

Handing Sam the soap, Dean washed the lather off of his chest and stomach, making sure he cleaned his cock well.

Sam watched. Realizing that he was just standing there staring, Sam lathered the soap up and washed their mixed come off of his chest and stomach. He was startled as a hand came up and brushed his cheek. Sam looked at Dean.

“You had some,” Dean made a motion of wiping his face, “on your face.” He finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower.

Sam scrubbed his face clean. Soaping up his hand, he ran it down the crack of his ass, fingers trailing across his tight hole. Slowly he pushed one finger in, imagining it was Dean. His breath escaped in a huff as the curtain was pulled back and he was found out. Dean didn’t mock him or even laugh, although he must have looked kind of ridiculous with his leg in the air and his finger up his ass.

 _Wanting. Lust._

Maybe he didn’t look as ridiculous as he thought. Straitening up, Sam slipped his finger free of his body. Quickly, he finished rinsing off and then he looked at Dean and saw desire. He had seen it before, when Dean had been after some girl, but this was the first time Sam could honestly say the look was just for him.

Stepping out of the tub, Sam stood and looked at Dean. He had known that Dean had a few scars but spread out on the body before him, it looked like a map. One that he wanted to explore. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down one. Dean’s cock twitched and Sam gave him a grin.

By mutual agreement, they moved back to the bed. Sam was happy that it wasn’t cold and they could lie on top of the covers. Lying down, Sam kissed Dean. He would never get enough of this. Kissing Dean was different than kissing anyone else he ever had. They seemed to mesh just right. Even the stubble on Dean’s cheeks rubbing against his was perfect.

Sam started touching Dean’s scars, then he was kissing them. Finding himself moving lower, he licked and kissed and bit. Dean moaned and it just inspired Sam to make him make the sound again. Lick, lick, nibble, kiss.

Then he was staring at Dean’s erection. Before he could chicken out, Sam leaned in and licked the weeping head. Tangy, a little bitter, not at all as disgusting as he expected.

“Sam. Oh. God. You don’t have to.”

“I know, Dean.” Sam took the end of Dean’s prick in his mouth.

“Ugg.”

Sam smiled around the cock in his mouth at Dean’s reaction. Licking around the head, Sam bent to take as much of Dean into him as he could. He was kind of disappointed when he quickly gagged. Backing off, he sucked up and down on Dean’s cock, working his hand in rhythm with his mouth.

“Sam!” Dean tried to pull Sam off, but he was determined. He wanted to try as much as he could before the night was out. Dean lost control and was thrusting into Sam’s willing mouth. Then he was coming. Sam tried to swallow as much come as he could. He had always got the impression that it tasted bad. Maybe his did, but Dean’s most definitely did not. He licked the last bit of come from Dean’s cock before he moved back up, beside his brother.

“You taste good.”

Dean kissed him with the flavor of his come still in Sam’s mouth.

“I do.”

“Modest as ever, I see.” Sam couldn’t help but tease him. He got that wonderful grin in reply.

Dean pushed Sam back on his back and then moved over the top of him. He plundered Sam’s mouth and Sam gladly let him. Tongues tangling in one of the oldest dances on earth. Then he moved to Sam’s chin and down to his ear, teeth grabbing and his tongue flicking it.

“Dean,” Sam moaned.

“Can you feel what I’m feeling now?” Dean whispered into his ear.

 _Lust. Anticipation. Joy._

“I’m not sure what you are feeling and what I am.” Sam admitted.

“Tell me,” Dean commanded.

“Lust.”

“Well, that one is kind of obvious.” Dean pressed his growing erection against Sam.

“Anticipation.”

“That one might be you,” Dean said and then admitted, “okay, me too.”

“Joy?”

“Why do you ask that one? Don’t you think this is a reason to be joyful?”

“Yeah, it’s just I don’t normally associate you with joy,” Sam said quietly.

“What about now, Sammy? What do you feel from me now?”

 _Love._

“Love,” Sam said turning his head so he could look at Dean. “I love . . .” Sam couldn’t finish because Dean’s lips had claimed his again.

“I know, just don’t say it,” Dean murmured against his lips.

“Why?”

“Because it always ends badly after someone says it. So if you don’t say it . . .”

“I’ve got to tell you about my vision,” Sam said.

“No, not now. Let’s just concentrate on us right now.” Dean nibbled on his neck.

Sam sighed and tilted his head. Dean licked and then bit down on the junction between his neck and his shoulder. Sam hissed and then Dean was licking the bite and Sam moaned, his hips moving in time with Dean’s tongue.

“Steady there, Sammy.” Dean ran his fingers across Sam’s chest.

 _Lust and longing._

Dean kissed down his chest to his nipples, licking first one then the other. Damn, but he was going to lose control and come without Dean even touching his cock. Sam made a whining noise in the back of his throat. Moving lower, Dean stuck his tongue into Sam’s belly button causing Sam to nearly throw him off the bed as his body jolted upwards in response.

“So responsive,” Dean said and licked his way lower. Bypassing what Sam considered the most important part, Dean was licking his thighs and then his knees. Holy Mary mother of God, who knew that the back of his knees were an erogenous zone. Sam reached down to wrap his fingers around his hard cock only to get them slapped away.

“Don’t touch.”

Sam groaned and let his hand fall to the bed.

Dean, seeming to feel that he had tortured Sam enough, moved back up to capture his cock in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the head, he bent and took all of Sam into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Sam gasped.

“Not yet,” Dean said after he let Sam’s cock fall from his mouth.

“Soon, right?” Sam was almost pleading.

“Sure,” Dean said, flashing his grin before sucking Sam down his throat again.

Sam tried to stop but his body was responding to Dean’s mouth and his feelings. Everything was so mixed up, Sam wasn’t sure what he was feeling and what Dean was. “Dean,” he tried to warn his brother just before he came. All Dean did was suck on him harder. Sam found his release and his hot seed pumped into Dean’s mouth.

Pulling Dean up, Sam kissed him. Tasting himself in Dean’s mouth was one of the hottest things he had ever done, his tongue searching out every last drop.

“Now?” Sam asked, suddenly nervous. Feeling Dean’s desire was one thing, wanting his cock up his ass was something else.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Dean offered.

“I . . . I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m not going to make you do anything.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s stupid,” Sam said.

“I know stupid,” Dean said as Sam snorted. Dean hit him lightly. “You are not stupid, none of this is.”

“Okay, I guess I’m scared.”

Dean nodded. “Makes sense.”

“But I want to.” Sam rubbed his growing erection against Dean’s leg. Dean reached down and grasped his cock.

“Nice to know you recover quickly.”

Sam brushed his hand across Dean’s cock and the emotional feedback he got made his cock go from slightly interested to hard as a rock in seconds. Fuck, it had never been like this with anyone else. “Dean,” Sam pleaded.

“Do you have any lube?”

“Like you don’t,” Sam teased. “Bag, on the table.”

“Mine happens to be in the Impala.”

“Right,” Sam smirked at his brother as he got up and retrieved the lube from his duffel. He slapped it into Dean’s open hand.

Dean turned the bottle and read it. “Eros for men. Been planning something, Sam?”

Blushing, Sam shook his head. “No, actually, when I found it I was thinking of how handy it would be to use on squeaky hinges.”

“Good thinking.” Dean looked at the bottle. Opening it, he squirted a little on his hand. “The silicone means it won’t get tacky. Smart.” He pulled his brother down onto the bed. “Multiple uses, even smarter.”

Sam grinned at Dean, then he slowly lost it. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this, just because some Angel told us it was okay.”

Dean looked at Sam with desire. He dropped the lube and reached down to grab Sam’s hand. “What do you feel?”

 _Lust. Love._

“Lust and love,” Sam replied. Reaching out his hand he cupped Dean’s face. “I’m just not sure if the feelings are yours or mine.”

Dean closed the gap between them, his lips capturing Sam’s. “Mine.”

Something relaxed that had been holding Sam back, and he kissed Dean breathless. Their bodies closing the small distance between them, like they were a pair of lodestones.

Hands roving, touching. Then Sam felt Dean’s slicked up fingers at his entrance. He moved to allow easier access and then groaned as one finger entered him. “Dean,” Sam keened.

“I want you so ready for me that you are begging me.”

If it was possible, Sam might have got even harder at the tone of Dean’s voice.

Dean slipped a second finger in with the first, slowly moving them in and out in a maddeningly slow pace. He flicked his tongue over one of Sam’s nipples and felt it tighten under his tongue.

“Damn.”

“Not good enough, you have to mean it.”

“Dean,” Sam started just as Dean pushed in a third finger. Sam began to rock on Dean’s fingers. Crooking his fingers inside Sam, Dean made Sam see stars.

“What was that?”

Dean brushed his fingers across Sam’s prostate again and Sam nearly bucked off the bed.

“That?”

“Ung. Yeah,” Sam grunted.

“Prostate, oh brother of mine. You like?” Dean touched it again and then removed his fingers, moving so he was between Sam’s legs. He placed his lubed up cock at Sam’s entrance. “You sure?”

“Please. Please, Dean.”

Dean pushed forward a little bit at a time. “Sam,” he said.

Sam looked at his brother. _Pleasure, longing, needing._

Slowly moving in and out, Dean was driving Sam mad. Lifting his bottom up, he tried to push against the cock entering him.

Dean tsked him. Tsked!

Lifting Sam’s legs to his shoulders, Dean began to move faster and harder until his balls were slapping against Sam’s ass. Dean pounded him.

Reaching down, Sam had barely wrapped his fingers around his throbbing erection and he was coming. As the muscles in his ass clenched and unclenched, Dean fucked him harder and faster until he stiffened with a cry. Sam was enveloped with Dean’s feelings.

 _Love._

Dean lay down on Sam, his cock leaving Sam’s body with a pop.

Sam caught his breath and looked at his older brother. “That was fantastic. Is it always like that?”

Dean rolled off of Sam after giving him a kiss. “It has never been that way . . . I mean . . . shit, that **was** fantastic. No, it’s never been like that before.”

Sam just nodded and then he found his eyes were closing.

“Sam. Sammy. Come on, you need to shower. I am not sleeping with a come-soaked man.”

Sam smiled as he rolled out of bed and tried to saunter to the bathroom. It didn’t quite work that way. He was a bit sore. Putting his hand in the small of his back he turned and looked at his smirking brother. “Don’t say anything.”

Getting up, Dean walked over and took Sam’s hand. He still had that self-satisfied look on his face. Starting the shower, Dean helped Sam into it and then joined him.

“I can wash myself.”

“I know that,” Dean said simply.

“Then why are you here?”

“’Cause I wanna be. Maybe I just want to help.”

“Help. Right. Well, Mr. Helpful, hand me the soap.” Sam flashed his dimples. He washed as best he could and he let Dean help him. Damn, it had felt so good when it was happening. Dean got out first and greeted Sam with a tube of numbing antibiotic.

“Would you like me to?”

“Nah, I think I can manage,” Sam said and took the tube from his hand. Wincing a little, Sam sighed in relief as the numbing agent began working.

Pulling on his briefs, he walked into the room. Concern and love rolled over him. Looking at Dean, Sam flashed him a smile. “All better.” Then he climbed into bed, Dean slipped in soon afterward and Sam did what he had wanted to for a while and wrapped himself around his brother.

“Love you,” he murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

“Love you, too,” he thought he heard as he rolled into the darkness surrounded by Dean’s love.

“Get up,” Sam waved a cup of coffee under Dean’s nose.

Cracking his eyes open, Dean gave him a glare. “What time is it?”

“About nine in the morning.”

“And why did you feel the need to wake me up?”

“We need to go out and check out the cemetery. Remember bowl, lamb’s blood?” Sam sat down at the table with his cup of coffee. Damn, lamb’s blood.

“And I suppose you’ve just got a stash of lamb’s blood?”

“I thought we might stop by the supermarket and pick some up.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Sam.” Dean sat up and rubbed his face while Sam enjoyed the view.

“I looked on the internet. There are three slaughter houses between here and one of them is kosher,” Sam said and glanced at Dean.

“And that’s significant, how?”

“They drain all of the blood and capture it. If we ask, we might just get some without having to be sneaky, or having to kill a lamb ourselves.”

Dean nodded. “Last resort, I guess.”

Getting up, Dean got dressed and ate some toast that Sam had left for him. Sliding into the Impala, he slid his tape of Foreigner into the player. Singing along as Lou Gramm started singing ‘Dirty little white boy’.

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean directions to the closest slaughter house. It happened to be the kosher one. Dean sang along to the music.

 _“I’ve been in trouble since I don’t know when  
I’m in trouble now and I now somehow I’ll find trouble again  
I’m a loner, but I’m never alone  
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone.”_

“You go and ask. Few people can say no to that pretty face.” Dean touched Sam’s cheek. No matter that the words were flip, Dean was worried. Sam gave him a grin of reassurance and got out.

Twenty minutes and a pint of lamb’s blood later, Sam slipped back into the car. “Got it.”

“See Sammy, I knew that grin would do it.”

“Actually, it didn’t. I had to give the rabbi a blow job.”

Dean sputtered and whipped his head to look at Sam.

“Oh, God. Your expression,” Sam said as he dissolved into laughter.

“Very funny. Ha ha.”

“Come on, let’s go find the cemetery.” Sam began unfolding the directions that they had got from Alberich.

They stood just outside the tomb that supposedly contained the bowl. Moving, Sam was just about to enter the thing when Dean pulled him back.

“I don’t like this. How are you supposed to banish the spirit?”

“The lamb’s blood. Dean, we went over this.”

“It doesn’t feel right. What if Alberich was lying?”

“Dean, you tested him. He’s an Angel, he couldn’t lie.” Sam was exasperated.

“Fine, that doesn’t mean I have to like this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t like it either.”

Sam was getting nervous because he could feel how nervous Dean was. Sam was just happy that the empathy didn’t go the other way. Dean would never know that he was scared out of his mind. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Just fill the bowl with the blood? It seemed kind of easy. Alberich had said something about the spirit feeding off emotion. What was he supposed to do?

Without a hint of his inner turmoil, Sam turned to the entrance to the tomb once more. “Let’s do this.”

Dean had retrieved the shotgun and had made sure that the salt rock loads were in it. “Let’s go.”

Walking into the tomb, Sam had an easy enough time spotting the bowl. It was on the floor, dead center of the room. As Sam began to walk toward it, he felt fear prick its way into his heart. Glancing around, he saw Dean staring at him, wide eyed. He felt it, too.

“This one’s gonna be bad.”

Dean just nodded and took a step forward.

Taking a step forward himself, Sam was suddenly angry. Angry at everything. Alberich, Dad, Dean. The last one stopped him. Why would he be mad at Dean? Then it was as if someone or something was riffling through his thoughts and he remembered what Alberich had told him about having all these extra emotions.

A step forward and Sam was throwing everything he had got from the statue at the bowl, or the spirit in it.

 _Anger. Envy. Joy. Pain. Jealousy. Wonder. Pride. Hope._

He threw them at the bowl and gained a bit of ground with each emotion. It was as if as he brought them up the spirit sucked them out of him. Standing just over the bowl, Sam looked down and it didn’t seem to matter. Who cared if the world was going to hell in a handbasket. Let it. He dropped the container holding the lamb’s blood. Who cared if he lived or died.

 _Love. Concern._

“Sammy?” Dean sounded hesitant, like he didn’t like what he was seeing.

Sam turned to look at his brother.

“You can do this. I know you can.”

Shaking his head, Sam slid to his knees. What did it matter, they would all end up dead anyway.

A hand touched the back of his head.

 _Fear. Terror. Love._

Dean was terrified, yet he had reached Sam. Making a decision, Sam reached down and grabbed the container with the lamb’s blood in it. He spilt some on the floor then managed to get the rest in the bowl. Emotions flooded back into Sam, he surged to his feet, suddenly remembering his vision.

“Dean, get out!” He pushed his brother just as a Demon surged through the door.

“I don’t think either one of you will be going anywhere.” The cold voice of the Demon filled the crypt.

“Leave him alone,” Dean moved in front of Sam. “You said he would live.”

“Wrong, your deal was to bring him back and here he is.”

Sam reached out and took Dean’s hand.

“What’s this, now? Oh, how delightful. Tell me, Dean, did you like popping your brother’s cherry?”

“You make it sound dirty, but it wasn’t.” Dean sounded sure of himself. “I love him. With everything that is in me, I love him.”

 _Love. Reassurance._

Dean let go of Sam’s hand and took a step towards the Demon. “Something I’m sure you know nothing about.”

The Demon hesitated, as if it had lost its advantage. Then, it grinned. Reaching out, it touched Dean, who burst into flame. Over the screaming the Demon said, “You’d be surprised what you can live through.” Then it promptly vanished.

Dean knocked a skeleton to the floor from one of the niches in the crypt. Sam saw the skeletal hand pointing at the bowl.

“Help me, Sam!” Dean screamed.

Picking up the bowl, Sam dumped the blood over Dean. Immediately the flames were gone and, as Sam wiped the blood away, he saw that Dean was unharmed.

Thank you. Sam sent the prayer out as he helped his brother to his feet.

“Tell me that you didn’t foresee that happen, Sam.”

“I didn’t foresee that happen, Sam.”

“Idiot.”

Sam just grinned at his brother. They had the bowl now. For the first time, in a long time, Sam felt hope. Reaching out, he touched his brother and felt . . . nothing.

“You all right?”

“Why?”

“It’s just that I don’t feel you,” Sam replied.

“Oh, I feel plenty. This was my best leather and now it has lamb’s blood all over it. How am I supposed to get this clean?” Dean held the leather out from his body and blood dripped off of it onto the floor.

It was gone. The empathy was gone. He felt a momentary twinge of regret but it passed. He knew how Dean felt about him. He didn’t need any damn empathy to tell him anything else.

Starting to laugh at the look of disgust on Dean’s face, Sam was soon breathless.

“Fine, laugh at me in my moment of need.”

Sauntering over to his brother, Sam leaned down and kissed Dean. “I know what I need.”

“Ooo, I’m all goopy,” Dean whined and Sam started to laugh again.

Hope is a good thing.


End file.
